Watching Watson
by Oddette
Summary: Probably done to death but Johnlock, after the fall, Sherlock monitors John over a screen. SherlockxJohn - warning attempted suicide, but no character death. Mainly fluffy. Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

Watching Watson

Monday the 15th of July, around midday

It was a hot day and although he himself never had enjoyed particularly hot days Sherlock had to appreciate the weather, because without the gloriously hot weather the sight that now lay before him would not have existed. On the screen in front of him was possibly the most attractive view he'd ever had of his friend doctor Watson. The Watson on the screen was sprawled lazily across the sofa, his shirt lay on the floor beside him and the cup of tea on the side had remained untouched for hours. John very rarely left his tea to grow cold, but on hot days such as this he had been forced to do so having been in danger of overheating had he digested the hot beverage. Sweat drops slipped down his torso almost languidly, caressing his stomach and faltering gently on his belted jeans. John had rolled up his jeans the minute he had returned from his shift; and the calves that doing so had revealed were stretched across the arm of the sofa. John was skinnier than when they had lived together, the trauma of losing Sherlock had affected his appetite tremendously, as well as his sleeping patterns. Sherlock wanted to help. But all he could do was watch – and he'd be lying if he didn't enjoy sights like this.

John had been working out recently too, probably due to a new love interest. Although the thought of John with someone else made Sherlock feel sick to his stomach he couldn't help being glad John had found a reason to smile again. He wanted John to be happy. At least he wished that was how he felt. In truth he hated this person, whoever they were. He just wanted to be the one to be with John, to be the one looking at him in person, to scold him about his weight loss and to cuddle him through the nightmares that meant he paced the flat at night. He wanted to make it better. He wanted to be the reason John smiled.

John ran a hand through his sweaty hair and sighed, his chest rising and falling almost hypnotically in front of the secret viewer. As Sherlock watched his muscles unintentionally flex he wished he could return home to him. Pick up where they had left off. Maybe become more than what they were. But Sherlock knew he couldn't return to his friend, not yet.

They would both just have to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – John's date.

30th July – 5pm

Sherlock lazily rolled over on the motel room bed and flicked on his laptop. His heart was heavy and his entire body felt raw. John had a new girlfriend. He'd read about it on John's blog. It was also the first entry on the blog that he wasn't mentioned. It hurt. He wondered if John had forgotten about him. Sherlock waited impatiently for his laptop to switch on and scolded himself, desperately trying to calm that nauseous feeling he got whenever he thought about John falling in love with anyone other than him. It had been 3 years since his death, for John to date someone was good! It showed he was getting on with his life! And that's what Sherlock wanted right? For John to be happy? So why was it he hurt all over? Was it selfish to expect John to wait for him? They hadn't even been dating.

He clicked onto the 'Flatcam# program and watched the little grey dots slowly form a circle over and over again. Suddenly the dots became blurry and he became aware he was crying. He shook himself and scolded himself yet again. Grow up Holmes.

John was by the mirror, dressed up in a simply adorable black jumper, wearing a pristine white shirt. He was running his hands over his hair nervously and checking his watch. A dinner was set up ready, and Sherlock waited for the woman to arrive. Her facebook was private, and so he couldn't really gather much of what she looked like, or what she was like.

When the woman walked through the door the first thought that crossed Sherlock's mind was how similar she was to him. She was tall; with striking features and black curly hair that extended barely bellow her ears. Her eyes were almost identical to Sherlock's in color, and she had a similar pale complexion to her skin. It occurred to Sherlock maybe John wasn't moving on. At least, he hoped that John wasn't. He hoped this was a bad attempt to ease some kind of pain. How selfish of him.

The pair ate dinner in a comfortable silence, talking more towards the end of the meal when dessert was brought out. Sherlock reminded himself to thank John more when he cooked – he didn't do it all too often but when he did he really could produce some excellent meals. It seemed to be, all in all, a pleasant date to be on, but rather boring to watch.

John said good night to her at 8pm, she looked as if she wanted to stay, but John was insistent- kissing her lightly then bidding her good night. He looked exhausted. Sherlock watched him go to his room, carrying the remaining half bottle of wine, and reluctantly switched off the laptop – it was no fun watching an empty room. He hoped John would sleep well, even if sleep was achieved through unhealthy means; it had been almost a month since John had slept the entire night.


	3. Chapter 3

3- John buys a rope. 

10th August

The sun beat down on Sherlock, causing him to retreat back inside the motel room after less than half an hour on the balcony. It was far too hot, and Sherlock felt far too sticky and grumpy to remain in the heat any longer. He jumped onto the bed and turned on the fan. He lay there for a while staring up at the plain cream ceiling and listening to the creaking sound of the fan rotating and the numbing sound of the fan's blades spinning.

John had been at work all day, and so Sherlock had actually gotten on with his real experiments, instead of watching him all day. It felt weird to do something productive, and somehow not watching John made him think about him more. He missed everything about John. Every day he missed him more and more. At six pm when John got home he was thinking about how John used to smell. Like tea, soap and that other smell Sherlock could never explain- the smell that was distinctly John. He missed that smell a lot.

John had with him a paper bag; and a grim look of determination on his face. Sherlock didn't really notice him getting the rope out of the bag, he was far too distracted by the white t-shirt he was wearing, and the way it clung to his skin like he felt he would do if he had a chance.

He did notice however when John tied the rope into a noose.

Sherlock didn't quite know what he was doing, but he ran out of the motel room as fast as he could, heart pounding so loud he could barely hear his breath coming out in short sharp bursts.


	4. Chapter 4

4- Saving John Watson

Sherlock was thankful he'd chosen a motel in London. He ran down the road as fast as he could ; manically trying to think out a route to his friend. He eventually found a way that avoided the largest tourist routes and large traffic spots and raced towards his home. He arrived at the doorstep half an hour later. He knew somehow he wasn't too late.

He didn't bother knocking, he burst through the door as fast as he could, smashing it open with his shoulder and regretting his decision to do so. Clutching onto his shoulder he fell up onto the stairs and scrambled up them in blind panic. He was pretty sure he heard Mrs Hudson drop her tea tray but found he didn't care enough to look back. Their flat door was locked. He had left his key back at the motel. He kicked the door and yelled through it.

A red eyed John Watson opened the door. The noose hung from the window, awaiting its victim. John hadn't done it yet. He'd got there in time. Sherlock didn't care about what John would say; he scooped the smaller man up into his arms and held him tightly against his chest. John gasped and looked up at him, his sandy hair fluffy from Sherlock's clutch and his eyes wide with shock  
"Sherlock?" Sherlock didn't give him another chance to ask a question, he kissed John hard pulling the man against him with more passion. John tensed up and Sherlock braced himself for rejection.

And then John relaxed against him, pushing sweaty hands into Sherlock's hair, kissing him deeper and calmer. Passion radiated through the pair, relief and love mixed with anger and worry into a bitter but sweet taste in their mouths. They pulled apart and sunk onto the floor, John's head resting on Sherlock's shoulder

"You've lost weight" They said as one. John laughed quietly, snuggling into Sherlock's neck. Sherlock said nothing. His heart hurt. In a new way. A better way – it heart from too much happiness


End file.
